


you're so sweet (but i like it rough)

by silkbombs (mulberrygrey)



Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Hate Sex, M/M, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-08-12 01:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7914838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mulberrygrey/pseuds/silkbombs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles is America's favorite wedding planner. He makes dreams come true and fairytales reality. So it's no wonder he's hired to plan the biggest wedding of the year. It's only fitting. </p><p>There's just one problem- he's forced to team up with infamous event planner and party boy Louis Tomlinson. Who hates him just as much as he does. </p><p>This should go smoothly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was working on this as a break from the big fic im writing but then I ended up not knowing what to do with it and just kept it in my drafts for a while. I figure i'd publish it and see if yall like it and if theres enough feedback maybe ill continue (im super busy bc of school rn tho). Any mistakes are my bad. 
> 
> The wedding is pretty much based off Sean Parker and Alexandra Lenas' wedding. Google it if you want a visual- it's fucking insane. 
> 
> My tumblr is @silkbombs. Pls send me messages I'm bored and lonely and love affection. Or if you wanna talk fic/Larry/find out about what I'm working on. 
> 
> Cool thanks love u all.

In the mornings, Harry Styles lived by routine.

It always went the same way: He’d wake up to marimba at precisely 5:00 AM on the dot, brush his teeth, throw on a pair of running shorts, and be out on his daily five mile run by 5:15 AM. By 6:10 he’d be back, in his kitchen prepping a protein shake before he’d be in his weight room for another 30 minutes. At 7:40 he’d have to take a shower, change, and be at the office by 8:30.

Those few hours were his. There were no distractions, no work, no emails, _nothing_ to snap him out of his focus. It was so engrained in him by this point, he worked on autopilot.

So it was really to be expected that he nearly dropped his barbell in annoyance when he got the call at 7:23 AM, in the middle of a bench press.

“Fuck,” Harry groaned as he heaved the barbell on the rack. He ripped out his headphones, wiping away the sweat that had been dripping down his forehead, and wrapped them around his MP3 player. His phone was trilling at max volume, nearly jumping off the table as it buzzed.

“This better not be another client, I already made it _clear_ that my hours are from 9 to 7, even if you’re Jennifer Aniston,” Harry mumbled to himself, stretching his arms out and bending his back to loosen the knot there. His muscles rippled underneath his damp skin, strong sinuous tendons flexing in his back. He crossed the room, cursing underneath his breath as he scrambled to pick up his phone.

He sighed when he saw the contact on the screen: _Liam Payne._ Of course.

“Hello?” Harry bit back his irritance when he accepted the call, pressing the phone against his shoulder and cheek.

“Harry,” Liam’s voice answered on the other side, bright and with a tinge of authority as it always tended to have, “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Liam. And I know you didn’t call to small talk. So, what is it?”

Liam clicked his tongue on the other side of the phone, “We need you in the office. ASAP.”

Harry frowned. Liam usually never called him into the office before opening hours unless it was an emergency. Even then, they were seasoned professionals. They had dealt with nearly every emergency situation possible at this point—from runaway horses, defunct air balloons, to thousand dollar cakes accidentally toppled over just hours before a wedding. There wasn’t anything Payne and Associates Productions couldn’t handle.

“You’re not going to tell me why are you?” Harry sighed into the phone, already grabbing his towel and heading into the bathroom to turn on the shower. If Liam wanted him over now, he was coming over now.

Liam’s chuckle floated through the speakers.

“You know me so well Styles. See you in fifteen minutes.”

“Whatever you say boss,” Harry hung up the phone and rolled his neck, stepping underneath the running water.

He groaned, letting the hot water pound down his body, scalding his skin and loosening up the tension in his muscles. With his head tilted back, he slid his eyes shut. He stood there, unmoving as he relished in the feeling of water drenching his newly cut short hair, flattened against his scalp. The stillness was nice, the only sounds the pitter patter of water hitting the ground and his own breathing, heavy through his chest.

He savored it, breathed in the steam filled air and cleared his head.

After all, he had a feeling that this was going to be his only chance at peace for the rest of the day.

***

He was right.

“Absolutely not,” Harry slammed his hands on the table. The force made a few loose papers on Liam’s desk flutter as they jumped in the air.

Liam pursed his lips, glancing distastefully at Harry’s hands before grabbing the notes that had been shifted out of place. He was a meticulous man, a perfectionist who always very particular about how everything and everyone should look and be placed. His low tolerance for error was what made him successful in the first place, especially when it came to running an event planning business.

But, as Harry could attest, it also sometimes made him a pain in the ass.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” Liam huffed as he shuffled the papers back into a neat stack, pointedly setting the glass paper weight on top of them with more force than necessary.

Harry crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes as he studied Liam’s face. His countenance was smoothed over, brow relaxed and mouth set in a neutral line. But his eyes said otherwise—there was a determined glint in them.  He fixed Harry with the same fiery stare he always had when he _meant business._

“I know what you’re going to say.”

Liam’s thick eyebrows shot up, the side of his mouth curving up, “Oh? And what is that?”

Harry faltered, he _didn’t_ actually know what Liam was going to say (he’d never admit that of course), but he could tell he already wouldn’t like it. Especially from the way he was currently looking at him like the cat that caught the cream. The weird early office meeting didn’t help either—and yeah maybe he was being a little petulant but he had to skip his morning iced coffee. And he _cannot_ live without coffee.

“You’re firing me.”

“Close.”

“You’re getting rid of the Impressa J9 and replacing it with a Keurig to cut costs.”

“No, but thanks for the idea,” Liam snorted when he caught Harry’s panicked expression. God he was _such_ an L.A. boy.

“I give up,” Harry ran hand through his hair as he pulled out the plush velvet lined chair across from Liam’s desk and slumped in the seat.

“I thought you would.”

Liam slid out his own big, vintage office chair and undid the button on his blazer.

He sat down and leaned back, eyes fluttering close as he leaned back into it, savoring the buttery leather upholstery underneath his hands. A little shiver of pleasure ran up his spine.

Harry had to stop himself from rolling his eyes—he loved Liam, he really did—they had been best friends for over seven years now—but he _knew_ that man had some sort of weird power kink. He liked being in charge a little _too much_ and that presidential-esque swivel seat did nothing but indulge him even further.

“So,” Liam said when he was finally done having his Napoleonic mini-orgasm, “We have a _very_ big client.”

“That’s nothing new. Who is it this time? Did Taylor Swift finally get engaged? Who’s she with this time, Benedict Cumberbatch?”

Liam grimaced, “God no. And if she somehow _was_ you know I’d never make us work with that she-devil even if she offered us all the money in the world.”

“Good man.”

“It’s Perrie Edwards and Jade Thirlwall. Turns out they’ve desperately wanted you to plan their wedding ever since you did Mariah’s third wedding. Although they’re _especially_ impressed with your work with Emma Watson.”

“Ah, I remember that one,” Harry reminisced, a dreamy fog clouding his eyes, “the English countryside was _perfect._ So classy, so Emma. I can still see her custom Jenny Packham, that gown was a dream _._ ”

Harry placed his chin in his hand, leaning forward into the table. Every time he remembered a wedding he planned he would always get a little floaty, even after all these years working in the industry, weddings were still so _magical_ to him.

He couldn’t help it—he was a hopeless romantic at heart. He believed in it all: love at first sight, soul mates, _romance._ He loved his job, he loved creating the _perfect_ fairytale day for couples in love. There was something so special about seeing love in real life. Even then, he couldn’t get enough. When he came home from it all, he’d spend his nights on the couch with a box of tissues and _The Notebook_ on Blu-ray.

He hadn’t found his own fairytale romance yet, but the movies were enough for now.

He had no cynicism, no residual bitterness from his mother’s first divorce, even from difficult, obnoxious clients. Every wedding he planned was perfect in the end.

 _That_ was the Styles touch.

Liam cleared his throat, snapping his fingers to bring Harry back into focus. He knew he could get lost in his own daydreams quite easily.

“Yes, well. I’ve put them down for an initial consulting appointment with you later this week.”

“This week?” Harry sat up, “But I have the next _year_ and a half booked solid. And don’t forget the wait-list.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve cleared it up. Ms. Edwards and Ms. Thirlwall are going to be your main focus for the coming two months.”

Harry’s eyes nearly bugged out, “ _Two months?_ I know we’re able to pull off short notice weddings, we specialize in that kind of thing but… _two months?_ What happened to our six month notice rule? You have to be kidding.”

“Now hear me out. I know we have that particular policy placed for good reason, but I’ve decided to break it for this time around. Let’s just say the Edwards and Thirlwalls are… _well off._ I’m sure you’ve heard of Planetary Incorporated.”

“Of course I’ve heard of Planetary,” Harry waved his smart phone, “Who doesn’t have a starPhone these days?”

“People who have androids,” Liam teased, “But anyway. Put two and two together. Edwards…should ring a bell.”

Edwards…Edwards… _oh._

“You mean _Alexander Edwards?_ As in _the Alexander Edwards?_ The second richest man in the world?”

“Bingo,” Liam grinned, “And Mr. Edwards has already dropped a generous deposit of 3 million to ensure that his _only_ daughter gets her fantasy princess wedding.”

“Shit,” Harry breathed, “That’s a lot for the deposit.”

It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to planning multimillion dollar weddings, his clientele were the rich and famous. He had worked with billionaires, heiresses, celebrities, the lot. But _never_ with a Silicon Valley mogul with a net worth of over 60 billion.

“Dare I ask the budget?”

Liam smirked, “They mentioned a _minimum_ of 12 million.”

“ _Shit._ ”

“Shit indeed.”

Harry’s mind was already racing at a hundred miles per minute. So many ideas were making their way into his head. A budget of 12 million—at the very least. He could do _so much_ with that money. Do things he’d never even dreamed of doing. God, saying he was excited would be an understatement. 

Harry beamed, visions of gold and silk and tulle and diamonds danced in his mind. This was going to be _huge._ Maybe even the defining moment in his career. He couldn’t do this alone, not without another creative director to assist him.

“So, am I working with Niall this time?”

Liam’s smile suddenly slipped off his face, a small wince taking over his feature.

“See, here’s the catch.”

Harry sat up, his back straightening. _Of course there’s a catch._

“Which is?”

Liam pursed his lips together, “The Edwards and Thirlwalls have hired someone else as well. They’d like you two to collab.”

Harry frowned. He wasn’t a fan of working with other people, especially if it wasn’t someone from within the agency. He had a very particular way of doing things, and a very very _specific_ vision. But he could be a team player.

Besides, it couldn’t be too bad, as long as whoever he would be working with could get along with him. It wasn’t the first time he collaborated with someone else.

“Who?”

Liam shot him a wary look, scooting back away from the desk as if he was afraid Harry would lunge at him once he delivered the news.

“Louis Tomlinson.”

* * *

 

_Boring, boring, boring…ah. Now that looks interesting._

Louis quirked an eyebrow, pushing away the rest of the pile of magazines he had been sorting through. He lifted up a thick glossy copy of _Cosmopolitan Bride,_ lips tilting up as he examined the front cover.

Well, this could kill some time. Might as well get comfortable.

Louis kicked back, head falling on the edge of the white couch he was currently sat on. He gazed around the room, crossing his feet on the perfectly polished glass table. Payne and Associates’ office looked like it came straight out of a HGTV interior design wet dream.

Honest to god, he could see every upper middle class white woman in Calabasas crowding in here to sip green jucies and gossip about the PTA.

Everything was _white._ The walls, the furniture, the fucking front desk. Vases filled with freshly cut white orchids and milky white pebbles were placed strategically around the room. The floor was white too—buffed Parisian marble glinting underneath the high beam lights and sunlight that filtered through the wide paned windows. Even the secretary at the desk was decked in a silky pearl blouse, her brown hair swept into a tight, shiny bun—not a strand out of place.

It was everything Louis’ own office was _not._

This was so not his style. It just felt so…uptight.

_Stifling._

And Louis was far from stifling. He lived for fun, lived for the fucking party. It was why he was an event planner in the first place—he could throw the biggest damn banger you’d ever seen. His own place reflected that—the lights were dim, the music was loud, and there was velvet and bling everywhere. There was a reason he had a star studded client list.

He knew how to have _fun._

Clearly the people at Payne and Associates didn’t. He rolled his eyes as he spotted the secretary pump a couple handfuls of foaming sanitizer in her hands before she stood up. She rubbed her hands together quickly, stopping to make sure she got underneath her cuticles and every spot on her hand. Then, she stood up and got up from behind her desk.

She walked across the room, crossing one cream colored stiletto in front of the other as she carried a cool glass pitcher and a tall sleek glass on a silver platter.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” She said, coming to a stop in front of him, “Mr. Payne and Mr. Styles will be out with you in a second. May I offer you a refreshment? Perhaps a glass of lemon infused seltzer?”

Louis squinted at her, “What you don’t have any Jack?”

The secretary pressed her matte red lips together, her eye twitching just the slightest, “We have some Rosé in the back I can get you.”

“No thanks…er…you,” Louis racked his head for her name. She had said it earlier. Eleanor was it? He didn’t remember. Didn’t care to be honest. “The seltzer will be fine.”

She poured him a glass with a tight smile before hurrying back to her computer. It was clear she wasn’t a fan of being a glorified waitress. Couldn’t say he could blame her.

He picked up his glass, making a face when he took a sip. It was gross. Like he predicted. Who in their right mind enjoyed slightly sour fizz water?

Whatever. Back to the magazine.

He smirked as he scanned the cover. There he was: the famous Harry Styles. Long haired, bambi eyed wedding planner to the stars. And his future co-worker. Plastered on the front cover of _Cosmopolitan Bride: Planning Your Perfect Wedding Edition._

Louis had to hold back a snort. Harry looked like he’d fit in right with the ladies on _The View._ He could already picture him sandwiched between Whoopi Goldberg and Joy Behar, discussing the latest superfood trends for this spring.

Harry was in some sort of Cabana, the view of clean white sand clear sparkling water awash the shore in the distance. He sat next to a linen covered table cluttered with dainty gleaming china, mason jars filled with soft burning candles ( _as if Harry wasn’t already Pintrest enough_ ), and a huge centerpiece flower arrangement brimming with vividly colored Delphiniums, Hyacinths, Spray Roses, and Limoniums.

He smiled easily in the picture, his dimples cratering in his cheeks as he looked directly into the camera. With one hand on his chin and another relaxed over the back of his chair, he crossed his legs. His famously curly hair was secured in a bun and his ivory peasant’s top ballooned in the breeze.

On the side of the magazine, in block print, read: _2016’s Best Wedding Planners: Get the Scoop on Page 21 with Our #1 Pick—Celebrity Planner Harry Styles!_

Before he could flip open to the page, the sound of people entering the room made his head snap up.

“Mr. Tomlinson!” A bubbly voice called out. A man in a tailored tan suit walked across the lobby in purposeful quick stride, a straight toothed, white smile plastered on his face, “I see you’ve made it safely to our office. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person. I’ve heard a lot.”

_So this was Liam Payne. He looked exactly like Louis pictured him._

Liam reached out an arm, offering out a handshake.

“No need to be so formal. We’ve been phone buddies this past week yeah? Call me Louis,” Louis smiled, ignoring Liam’s outstretched hand and going in for a hug instead. Liam froze as Louis squeezed his arms around him. He held back a cackle when he pulled back away. The shocked look on Liam’s face made up for it.

“Yes, yes of course Louis,” Liam straightened up, his face red. “In that case, you can call me Liam. And this is—” Liam paused, looking around next to him with a frantic gleam in his eyes, “Oh. My apologies. He should be out here, probably just stopped by the bathroom or something.”

Liam smiled forcefully before letting out a gruff shout, “Harry! Mr. Tomlinson is here!”

“Louis,” Louis corrected, trying to stop the smirk on his face when Liam began apologizing profusely. He really didn’t care what he was called, he just liked messing with people. It was all in good fun.

And could you blame him? Liam Payne was just so _easy._

“Coming!” A deep voice called back out, followed by the sound of shoes clicking against the floor.

And _oh._ There he was.

Harry made his way over to where Liam and Louis were stood. He looked…different from how he did on the magazine cover. For one, Louis didn’t realize how _big_ he was—in every sense of the word. Harry was tall and broad, with long legs covered in white skinny jeans and a wide, muscled chest tapering into slim hips. His long hair was gone, newly cut and short, emphasizing how sharp his jawline was. He was a good head taller than Louis too—and that was when he was _slouched back_. God knew how much taller he’d be when he fixed his posture.

Just the thought made Louis’ mouth run dry.

“You called?” Harry asked, his gaze fixed on Liam and his strong arms flexing as he crossed them across his chest. Louis tried his best not to stare.

“Harry, this is Louis Tomlinson. He’ll be working with you on the Edwards-Thirlwall wedding and reception.”

Harry angled his body away from Liam, head turning as he finally directed his gaze towards Louis. His head dropped a bit as he sized Louis up, dragging his stare slowly over his body. His gaze seemed to burn and Louis almost felt naked under his stare. There was something so intense about it.

But not as intense as the look gave when he directly stared into Louis’ eyes. Harry’s eyes were sharp and bright green, narrowed almost challengingly.

Louis fidgeted, feeling hot underneath his collar as he tried to keep his own gaze firm—he was never like this, never this squirmy over a stranger. Even extremely attractive ones.

He didn’t like it. Not one bit. It made him feel weak for some reason, like he was losing an unspoken battle.

“I see you’ve found my cover,” Harry said, deep voice rumbling lowly. It made Louis tremble.

“W-what?” Louis squeaked, instantly feeling his cheeks turn pink. God this was embarrassing. _Get it together Tomlinson._

“The one you have in your hand? _Cosmopolitan Bride?_ ”

Louis’s eyes quickly snapped down to the magazine he had in a clammy grip. Right. The one with Harry on it. The one he was currently holding.

“Oh this,” Louis recovered, straightening his back to make himself stand a bit taller. This height disadvantage was really fucking unfortunate. “Just thought I’d do a little a research on my new partner. Never heard of you before. You don’t really run round in my circles.”

It wasn’t a complete lie—Louis threw parties for celebrities like Justin Bieber and Tyga. Ones with lots of alcohol, loud music, sex, and not so _legal_ activities. Didn’t really cross with Harry’s posh wedding business.

Harry scowled, “Yes well, that’s because my clients are _classy._ And I can assure you I’m very well known. Everywhere.”

Louis raised his eyebrows, offended on behalf of his own clientele. So that was how it was going to be. Alright, two could play at this game.

“Right, if by everywhere you mean the focus group for the Oprah Winfrey Network. Real impressive.”

Harry’s nostrils flared, “And what about you? What magazine covers do you have? Do you even know anything about event planning?”

“Of course I know about event planning,” Louis gritted out, “That’s my _job._ ”

“From what I can tell, the only kind of events you know how to plan are trashy underground parties for spoiled Hollywood brats. What was the last thing you did huh? Provide coke for Jaden Smith? I’m not even sure why you’ve been hired to do a wedding anyway.”

Louis growled, he could feel himself start to shake.

“I was hired for a _reason._ Just because you’re too up your own self-absorbed ass to realize it, the events I organize take skill—just as much skill that it takes to throw a wedding. Jade Thirlwall gave me a _personal_ call requesting for me, whether you like it or not.”

Harry snorted, “I find that hard to believe. The only times I’ve heard someone bring up the name Tomlinson are when they’re in need for a glorified blunt roller.”

“Harry I—” Liam inserted, as if he finally realized the tension between the two was almost mounting to a full blown fight. He pushed himself between Louis and Harry worriedly. He kept talking but Louis couldn’t hear any more of what he was saying.

White noise filled his ears. He was _angry._

Louis’ fists clenched together. That one hit a little too close to home. He couldn’t fucking count the times people in the event planning industry had brushed him off, especially in the beginning stages of his career. Even now, with his huge success and star studded contacts certain planners like Harry Styles still thought of him as a phony. Thought he was lazy, that his job was easy and required zero effort just because he wasn’t planning galas or arranging peonies or whatever the fuck it was quote-on-quote _real_ event planners did.

And that infuriated him.

Contrary to popular belief, he had spent years getting to where he was now. A lot of people didn’t realize how much work went into his career. He had come from nothing, moved to the city and spent years building up his profile in Los Angeles, often going hungry and living on couches before he was finally getting A-list clients. He _wasn’t_ just some party boy who decided one day to make it his full time job.

He was a fucking entrepreneur. And he was tired of being discredited. Especially by pretentious snobs like Harry Styles.

“Listen here _dickhead_ ,” Louis seethed, stepping around Liam and pressing a finger into Harry’s chest, “Put aside your ego for a second and forget about your magazine covers. I don’t care if you were ranked the best wedding planner in the world or the worst. Here’s how it is, plain and simple: I’m your new coworker whether you like it or not and you _will_ treat me as professional. Because that’s what I am, no matter what your preconceived notions about me are. I’ll do the same for you, and that will be that. Got it?”

Harry was red now, his jaw set as he glared down at Louis. He looked like he wanted to say something, but Liam was soon between them again, with a hand on Harry’s shoulder pulling him away.

“That sounds fair,” Liam said, his voice grave and his eyes aimed at Harry with a pointed stare. The two men looked at each other in silence, as if they were communicating with their eyes. Finally, Harry tore his gaze away from him, now staring directly back at Louis once again.

The hinge in his jaw twitched, his eyebrows sloped downwards as he regarded Louis, his green eyes aflame.

“Got it.”

* * *

 

The first meeting Liam had scheduled for the both of them was an initial consulting session with Perrie and Jade at a little trendy vegan café in downtown Los Angeles. It wasn’t the type of place Louis would normally go to, but as long as he got a couple mimosas in, he wouldn’t complain.

Louis pulled into the parking lot, taking a deep breath before climbing out of his cherry red Mercedes. He closed the door, admiring how the glossy paint gleamed in the sunlight. He had purchased it as after he planned his biggest event to date—Kylie Jenner’s 18th birthday party. The paycheck for that one had been astronomical.

“Nice ride, not flashy at all.” A familiar voice called out behind him.  

Louis turned around, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

Harry had just pulled into the lot into a motorcycle space next to his own car, leaned against his Harley Davidson. He had his helmet tucked underneath his arm, leather booted feet crossed over one another. Like the last meeting, he was dressed in another pair of skinny jeans again—black this time, a wide silver belt buckle cinched around his slim hips. A bandana was knotted around his neck, loose enough to show off his bobbing Adam’s apple.

Harry pushed himself off his bike, black and white polka dot button up swinging as he walked over to Louis’ car. It was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, the barest hint of his tattoos exposed across his collarbone.

Well, that was decidedly less Real Housewives than expected.

“Could say the same about yours. Gotta admit, I didn’t peg you for a Harley type of guy.”

Harry adjusted his Ray Bans, peering over at Louis over the tops of them. He had an unreadable expression on his face, and Louis tensed. Their little fight they had before was still fresh in his memory.

“Oh?” Harry asked, voice clipped, “And what kind of guy did you peg me for?”

“A Beetle guy. One of those yellow ones with daisy rims. Or whatever it is Giada DiLaurentis drives.”

He expected Harry to get offended, but he just snorted, rolling his eyes.

“You know I’m not actually a middle aged woman right? Sure I have a feminine side, but I’m still very much a man. Not that I mind being compared to Giada.”

Louis leaned back against his car, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Oh, I know. You reek of sheer masculinity.”

Harry placed his hand on the roof of Louis’ Mercedes, leaning over until he was looking at Louis underneath him. They were closer together now, so close Louis could smell Harry’s cologne. It made him feel dizzy, the scent of something woody with a note of amber and bergamot clouding his senses. It was more attractive than he cared to admit.

“You know, you’re oddly concerned with my supposed lack of masculinity, Sure you’re not projecting?”

Louis frowned, glancing down at his own soft striped ribbed shirt and pale blue skinny jeans, the hems rolled up his ankles. He was always aware, at least on a very base level that he was flamboyant. It wasn’t a secret, he was outgoing, had a body structure that was more often seen on women than men, and was pretty invested in his appearance. He didn’t have a problem with it though, he had gotten over his own insecurities years ago.

“I’m well aware of my feminine side,” He huffed, “So no, I am not projecting. I’m just saying you need to accept the fact that you’re Martha Stewart and I could easily kick your ass.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, “You really think I’d let you kick my ass? I’m at least twice your size.”

“Of course you would. Size doesn’t matter—I can tell you’re sensitive. You’d probably cry the moment I told you to square up.”

Harry shuffled forward, his height emphasized now that the space between them had vanished. Louis felt heart leap into his throat, he was still _very_ much attracted to Harry even if he was a dick. He was toned, biceps shifting as he relaxed his weight into his arm.

“You’ve got a big mouth for someone so small, Tomlinson.”

Louis was so distracted he missed what Harry had said. Harry’s shirt had gaped open as he leaned over, and he had now had a full view of the upper half of his bare torso. The moth tattooed under his pecs caught his eye, dark ink flowing smoothly into creamy pale skin, its wings intricately shaded and drawn.

“What was that?” Louis coughed, tearing his eyes away from the moth. He never knew had a thing for tattoos. Maybe it was just Harry.

Harry smirked, following where Louis was staring at him, “I said you were small.”

Louis bristled, puffing his chest out and subtly lifting himself on the tips of his toes. He hated his height, especially when he had to deal with tall  It was hopeless though—Harry was still looking down at him, so tall he casted a shadow.

“I’m not small.”

“Yeah you are,” Harry chuckled, moving his hand so it was pressed wide open on the car, right next to Louis’ head. Louis swallowed, his throat scratchy and dry as he glanced at it. Harry’s fingers were spread out, his palm flat. His hand was huge, almost the size of Louis’ head. Louis wondered if it could circle his entire waist.

He shook his thoughts out of his head when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He was here for work. Not here to flirt with his infuriatingly attractive coworker. Speaking of whom, they were both supposed to be inside by now. They had clients waiting.

“Shut up Styles. We should go in,” He muttered, pushing himself off his car and accidentally bumping into Harry’s solid chest. He jumped back, face flustered as he ran his fingers fleetingly through his fringe—a habit he had whenever he was uncomfortable. The entire situation was embarrassing, and he was not having it today.

Louis cursed underneath his breath, brusquely brushing past Harry and stalking towards the doors. As soon as he reached the entrance he stood there, waiting for the sound of Harry’s heavy footsteps to catch up with him. There was nothing.

Louis swiveled around on his heel. Harry was still in the lot, watching him with an odd expression on his face.

“Well? Aren’t you coming?” Louis asked. Harry made no move though, still standing in the parking lot as if he was in a trance. With a sigh, Louis marched back towards him, grumbling. He grabbed him by one of his stupidly cute ears and tugged him forward.

“Ow! Let go,” Harry groaned, eyes coming back into focus as he wiggled his way out of Louis’ grasp. Louis was stronger than he looked though, and he pulled all the way to the front door. He finally let go of his ear, flicking Harry between the eyebrows.

“Hey!” He frowned, rubbing his sore ear as he straightened his shirt out. “That hurt,” Harry pouted, bottom lip stuck out.

Louis rolled his eyes and flung the glass door open, not bothering to keep it open for Harry, “Pay attention, don’t call me small again, and we won’t have any problems.”

***

“So let me get this straight,” Harry said, pressing a finger to his temple, “You want…a Lord of The Rings wedding.”

Perrie Edwards adjusted her slipping oversized wire rimmed glasses, her nose crinkling as she attempted to push them back over the bridge. She blinked at Harry, her owlish blue eyes fluttering as she took a sip of her kale juice. She was exactly how you’d picture the daughter of a billionaire tech magnate to look—nerdy and subdued, but gorgeous nonetheless, her willowy figure dressed down in a pair of skinny jeans and a grey zip up hoodie.

Her fiancé on the other hand, was the opposite. Jade Thirlwall was luxury, from her silky mocha colored slip to her thigh high suede Stewart Weitzmans.

“Well, not exactly. We want our wedding to be…how do I describe this?” Jade trailed off in thought, twirling her fork between her manicured fingers, fire engine red polish catching the light. She flipped her long curtain of hair behind her shoulder, “What was it you said earlier babe?”

 “ _Performance art,_ ” Perrie supplied, nudging her shoulder against Jade’s.

“Right! Performance art, thanks Pez,” Jade pressed a sticky lip gloss kiss to Perrie’s cheek, “Yeah, we want this to be a performance art project. Like the modern take on an enchanted forest. With influences from Lord of The Rings and Game of Thrones. That sort of aesthetic.”

“We already have a venue in mind,” Perrie supplied, slipping out her tablet and opening up a page to a couple images of a gorgeous, lush forest, “Big Sur. We’ve been wanting do something like this for a while. It’ll be a part of our work with the _Save the Redwoods League_. We chose the forest to boost awareness of California’s Redwoods by showing just how gorgeous and important they are to our ecosystem.”

“Our dinner and reception is going to be in forest too of course. We want a huge, lavish feast and party—think Red Wedding…with less deaths of course.”

“Of course,” Louis echoed.

Perrie continued, “We want minimum publicity, besides what we approve of. No phones allowed.”

Harry frowned, “I’m not so sure about the phone thing. People will want to Instagram things.”

“We’ll have professional photographers on site and a room for photoshoots.”

“And press? It’ll be hard keeping this under wraps. Every gossip outlet will be wanting a piece of this. You’re spending upwards of 12 million for this wedding and your family isn’t exactly low profile,” Louis chimed in, “I’m assuming you’ll be having plenty of celebrity guests as well.”

Harry nodded—he hadn’t thought of that. Louis was right.

“You’re correct about our guests. For press, Jade already has one of the editors at _Vanity Fair_ locked down to do an article.”

“Writer?” Harry asked. _Vanity Fair_ had covered his Emma Watson wedding a while back. They had done a fairly good job, but he was still anal about these things. In no way did he want to be misrepresented.

“Jesy Nelson,” Jade answered, shooting him a knowing look, “Don’t worry about anything negative being written. She’s a good friend of ours.”

Harry nodded, sinking back into his seat. Now that he had an idea of where the creative direction wedding was headed, a million different ideas, tasks, and a never ending to-do list was running through his head. He was excited, the idea of a magical wedding in the woods had so much potential to be _amazing._

But, there was also a lot of room for error. Especially if they’d be isolated in the forest. It was all going to be about location—they’d need a spot somewhere close to some sort of service building just in case things went wrong.

As if he read his mind, Louis spoke up.

“Do you have a specific spot in Big Sur booked yet?” Louis asked, “Preferably somewhere so we’re not alone in the middle of the forest as a precaution if anything wrong happens.”

That was surprising. Louis didn’t seem like the type to be cautious.

“ _Save the Redwoods_ helped us with that, we have the Ventana Inn and Spa all booked out for our guests to stay at. We already did a few of the major things before hiring you two actually. Perrie and I got in touch with a couple of our old MIT and Caltech colleagues to advise to make sure we aren’t disturbing the forest. Just a few botanists and biologists. We’ve decided on a closed campground near the Inn for the actual ceremony. It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

Harry’s lips quirked up, impressed by all the homework the girls had done. Usually his clients came in with zero idea of what they wanted to do, or if they did, they had unrealistic expectations and no idea how to execute it. This was a refreshing change.

He sorted all the information out in his head, reaching for his phone to write down notes. It was an automatic reaction. As he tapped his stylus against his phone, he noticed Louis was doing the same except he was scribbling down information in a big notebook. Maybe he wasn’t completely incompetent.

“So what do you do Jade?” Harry asked, filling in the silence that had stretched as he and Louis had been engrossed in their note taking. He made it a habit to keep his clients interested. He liked learning about who he was going to be working for. Plus he was a people person anyway. When you were in this business you sort of had to be.

“I’m a mechanical engineer.”

“Really?” Harry looked up from the bullet points he jotted down, voice tinged with surprise.

“Yeah,” Jade grinned, “Is it that hard to believe?”

Harry flushed, worried that he had offended her, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to like…assume otherwise.”

“That’s alright,” Jade laughed, “I get that a lot don’t worry. People are always so surprised when I tell them I do mech-E. Still, a lot of people don’t believe me even though I have the MIT degree and everything. It’s like…people think the way I dress and present myself are a reflection of my intelligence. Even Perrie here spent the _longest_ time thinking I was a fake.”

Louis paused his own writing, peeking up from his notebook, “She did?”

“Oh yeah. We used to be arch-enemies before we dated. You wouldn’t believe the fights we had.”

Perrie looked embarrassed, scrubbing her hand behind her neck, “I may or may not have misjudged her. I was an idiot back then. I thought just because she was girly she wasn’t serious about science and tech. We fought for three years just because of my prejudice. I regret it a lot…I shouldn’t have been such a judgmental asshole.”

Jade patted her cheek, “It’s alright babe, and I wasn’t exactly nice to you either. Besides, I know you just had some internalized misogyny deep down. Plus the angry sex was hot.”

“Jade,” Perrie turned bright red, pushing her slipping glasses back up her nose with a huff.

Jade threw her head back, letting out a shout of laughter, “Sorry babe, couldn’t help myself. Moral of the story is don’t judge too early on.” She rubbed her thumb over Perrie’s cheek, eyes softening, “You never know what you’ll miss out on.”

* * *

 

The next couple days went by fast. After their last meeting with Perrie and Jade, they had sorted through paperwork, contracts, the whole lot of boring things that had to be done. As it turned out, most of the major things had been taken care of—the girls, god bless their souls, had sent them both a very long email detailing everything they had done and what was left. It was up to them to sort through everything that still had to be finished and to begin coordinating what _was_ done.

Harry bit down on his straw, the plastic tough between his teeth. He inhaled, pacing back and forth across the floor. The sound of his leather black Saint Laurent Wyatts clicking against granite and the low whirring hum of the air conditioner together filled the room. He couldn’t hear any of it though, not the tapping of his fingers against his sweating cup of iced coffee, not the muffled voice of Eleanor on the phone in the lobby—he was lost in his own head.

He would do this often when he worked—fall into the rabbit hole that was his imagination. It was how he operated, how he was so good at putting together the perfect wedding. He could visualize, _really well._ So well it was almost scary—he’d get in a trance like state, shutting out the entire world until it was just him and his vision.

Harry had spent his entire weekend shut in his room, scribbling down sketches and little notes in the margins madly as he mentally split up his twelve million dollar budget.

He looked down at all the papers, charts, and illustrations he had organized by color category on the table. All of those notes contained his _vision._

He already pictured the wedding in his head down to every last detail—towering redwoods, the smell of the forest, the feeling of dirt crunching underneath his feet, the soft pink of the sky as the sun sunk over the horizon, Perrie and Jade in beautiful white gowns, surrounded by glowing lanterns and fireflies.

The guests would arrive and leave by canoe, the still water of Pyramid Lake carrying them to the campground. There would be harpists playing, all draped in pastel as their fingers plucked at each string. And there would be flowers, _flowers_ everywhere, braided in hair, wrapped around tree trunks, dried petals and apothecary jars filled with different Wiccan herbs. Maybe a chandelier suspended from the trees, made of twisting branches and candles.

Of course the reception would be just as elegant, dainty tables made completely of _lights_ would dot the campground, a big cage of winding trees and fairy lights surrounding the dining area. A stage would sit on the other side, and the dance floo-

“The dance floor!” A voice screamed as the door flung open. Harry’s head snapped up, the forest fading in front of his eyes until he was back in the conference room. No longer met with the sight of a magical wedding but a windswept Louis Tomlinson instead.

Louis bustled into the conference room, his soft brown fringe sweeping his forehead as he moved. He looked a bit disheveled, almost as if he had just rolled out of bed—but as much as Harry hated to admit it, it made him look good. The pair of black rolled up jeans on his legs looked effortless and the oversized sea green shirt he had tied in a knot to make shorter complimented his eyes.

Louis raised his eyebrows at him in acknowledgement, his phone stuck to his ear. He had a huge stack of papers and notebooks in his arms, so comically large it looked bigger than him.

Louis hurried over the table and dropped his entire stack right on top of Harry’s perfectly organized piles. A few of his papers flew off the table, landing on the floor. Louis didn’t seem to care though, he dropped down into the big leather swivel chair at the head of the table, kicking his feet up and leaning back as he continued to chatter in his phone.

Harry’s eye twitched.

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds great. I’ll let him know of course. Great. Talk to you later bro,” Louis finished, shutting off his phone with a satisfied grin on his face.

“Hi,” He said, his voice smug. It made Harry’s jaw clench.

“You’re late.”

Louis frowned, checking the time on his phone, “By like five minutes. Chill.”

 _Chill._ Did he really just tell him to chill? Harry couldn’t help it—he resented that word, that tone. He had heard it so many times throughout high school and college. Everyone would tell him to just _calm down._

The thing was—he couldn’t. He was always a little high strung, okay, _very_ high strung, but only when it came to his career.  It was who he was: Type A in his professional and academic life, Type B everywhere else. He straightened the papers he had in his hand against the table with more force than necessary.

“Don’t tell me to chill,” He bit the word out bitterly, “Why aren’t you on time?”

“Well since you asked so nicely,” Louis rolled his eyes, “I was talking to our newly hired set designer. You’re welcome.”

“Set designer?”

“We’re going to need someone to make props for this magical woodland wedding. You know, some towers and medieval shit. Plus Perrie and Jade already have the costume designer who did the costumes for Lord of the Rings making outfits for all 346 guests. It only made sense.”

“They’re providing the costumes for all their guests? When did you find out about this?” Harry spluttered. He hadn’t heard anything about this at all.

Louis bit his lip, a guilty look suddenly spreading over his face, “Um, Saturday.”

“Saturday?! That was two days ago, and we have two _months_ to plan this wedding. These things are important Louis, you’re supposed to let me know if anything big happens. And this is _big—_ we need to get in contact with the designer so the aesthetic of the outfits flow with the wedding. This changes everything.”

Louis held his arms up.

“Look, I’m sorry. I got caught up with everything this weekend. But as soon as I found out I got in contact with an old friend of mine, he’s a San Francisco based artist who did some set design on Game of Thrones and we got to tossing ideas with each idea over the weekend. I even brought the preliminary sketches we came up with.”

Louis reached over and pulled the tablet on top of his stack of papers, unlocking the screen and bringing up a new page. He pushed it across the table, sliding it in front of Harry.

A rush of blood thrummed in Harry’s ears. He glanced down at the tablet, his jaw clenched as he scanned over the designs Louis had brought up. He swiped through the pictures. They were well drawn, a few illustrations of a forest clearing and prop pieces with notes scribbled in the margins.

There was a just one problem—it was _nothing_ like how Harry had pictured the wedding. It was all wrong, all of it. Louis had stripped the venue of any sense of _romance._ There was supposed to be delicacy, subtle as the flutter of butterfly wings, an airy wonderment that made your eyes widen.

The designs were anything but subtle. Where Harry had pictured winding flowers and twinkly lights was a crackling fire, fake set towers, ostentatious fur rugs spread throughout the forest floor, and two huge thrones at the head of a huge banquet table made completely out of gold.

It was _awful._

But that wasn’t the only thing. The new design wasn’t what had pushed him over the edge. No, it was the blatant disrespect.

Louis had gone and completely disregarded him in the design plans. He had kept a vital piece of information away from Harry _and_ went and hired a consultant without discussing it with him first. He had thought after their meeting with Jade and Perrie there was a small chance they would be fine.

Not anymore. Any shrivel of hope he once had that he and Louis would get along was thrown out the window.

He might as well have slapped Harry in the face.

Harry snapped his teeth together, his molars grinding. It was a bad habit he had developed. His dentist always lectured him about it. But he couldn’t help himself, especially now. He felt his temperature rising, fingernails digging into his palms. Harry silently locked the tablet, letting it fall on the table with a soft thud.

“Well,” Louis asked, searching his face, “What did you think? Brilliant right? Should we get started on ordering the props right away? Zayn already put a commission in on the towers. I’ll call him back now.”

Harry didn’t even know what to say that. He didn’t even know how to respond to that.

So instead he swiveled on his heel and took a sharp breath.

His eyes darted around the room, landing on his papers that had been blown off the table, still strewn on the floor. He stiffly bent down, retrieving the fallen papers as he felt his face turn bright red. He was about to lose it.

“ _Calm the fuck down Harry,_ ” He hissed quietly to himself and inhaled deeply, letting his lungs expand with air. He needed to keep his cool or he didn’t know what he would—scream maybe. Or grab him by his stupidly delicate ankles and press him against the door until he behaved.

 _Shut the fuck up,_ Harry scolded himself. It wasn’t a surprise to him that he was _begrudgingly_ attracted to Tomlinson. Harry didn’t have a specific type, but if he did, Louis was the human embodiment of the checklist of physical features he found attractive. He was curvy and small and squirmy and it was Harry’s kryptonite.

More than once over the past couple days he had found himself picturing Louis pinned underneath him, his long fingers stuffed between his mouthy little lips so he’d finally _shut up._

He pressed his hand against his forehead, the cool metal of his rings searing his burning face. From here, under the table, he could see Louis shift in his seat. His shirt rode up his stomach just the slightest as he leaned forward, revealing a sliver of golden skin on his belly.

There was a tumultuous mixture of arousal and anger rising inside him. He was like a kettle on a stove, shaking with heat.

Harry couldn’t hold it in any longer. He blew up.

“Put down your phone.”

Harry stood in front of Louis across the table. He had the small stack of papers clenched in between his fist, the other hand open, fingers dangling in the air. His voice was eerily firm. Gone was the red flush that had stained his cheeks, his face stony and smooth and white.

“But I just got Za-”

“I won’t repeat myself. Put down your phone.”

Louis opened his mouth, a retort on the tip of his tongue. It died though, his voice fading in his throat as he stayed silent. Harry was looking down at him like he was a student who had misbehaved and he was his teacher, about to reprehend him. The power balance had suddenly flipped.

Louis placed his phone down. He blinked, curling his legs into his chest.

Harry threw his papers on the table, but Louis paid no attention, his gazed fixed on the white wall in front of him. If he looked at Harry he was sure he would crumble. The tension in the room was thick, his skin crawling. He stayed frozen in his seat—the mood had shifted. Something told him to stay as still possible.

Like he was prey avoiding predator.

Louis held his breath, face burning. His foot was starting to get numb underneath the weight of his legs and he was hyperaware of Harry’s presence, could hear his breathing, see his tall figure out of the corner of his eye.

Harry linked his hands behind his back, slowly stepping forward. He stopped in front of Louis, booted toes meeting the legs of his chair. A stretch of silence passed before he spoke.

“Look at me Louis.”

Louis’ throat was dry, his mouth felt like sandpaper as he forced a bubble of air down his lungs. He didn’t want to look at Harry.

It seemed like he didn’t have a choice. Harry grasped the arms of his chair, jerking him forward. Louis’ head snapped up as he let out a startled squeak, jostled with the movement. Harry’s long fingers held onto the chair, knuckles white as he stood, body tilted forward. Louis was caged in, Harry’s arms on both sides of him while his back was pressed flat against the back of his seat.

The position was intimate, their bodies nearly flush against one another, only a small gap of air between them. Louis could hear his heart pounding at hummingbird pace. Harry’s face was just inches away, steely green eyes focused in on his blue ones.

“You were right you know, when you had that rant during our first meeting,” Harry started lowly, “About respect. About treating each other professionally. I couldn’t argue with that could I?”

Louis shook his head, unsure of how to reply.

“Exactly. And I know this isn’t ideal for both of us, but we’re working together. And when you work together that requires coordination. Am I correct?”

 _Yes,_ Louis thought in his head. But it wasn’t fair—Harry was taking this too far if that was what he was mad about. He didn’t mean to leave him in the dark about the costumes on purpose. Besides, it was a small detail in the grand scheme of things and it had only been two days since he found out. _Two._

“What you did today—not telling me about the outfits, hiring a set designer without consulting me. That was the opposite of coordination. That was you going out of your way and taking on this project like it’s your _own_ and not the both of ours.”

Louis frowned—he didn’t like the tone Harry was speaking in. Like he was his superior.

“I know what I did. Don’t talk down at me like that,” Louis huffed, regaining a bit of his confidence, “Look, I’m sorry I did everything without involving you but it wasn’t malicious okay? I literally forgot to tell you. And I thought you’d be okay with the designs and Zayn—there was really only one way this wedding was going to look anyway. I thought it was pretty obvious.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up.

“Only _one_ way? Are you serious? How can you be so goddamn arrogant? I’ve had my own vision that I spent the past couple days slaving over and you have the nerve to come here and say _your_ design is the only possible option? Do you know how insulting that is?”

Louis didn’t answer, only pressing his lip together.

“I can’t believe this,” Harry laughed almost hysterically. He pushed himself away from the chair, carding a hand through his hair.

“I actually thought for a second we might be able to pull this off. Clearly I was right about you from the beginning.”

Louis lunged off his chair, “Right about me? What’s that supposed to mean? You’re the one who’s overreacting over nothing.”

“I’m not overreacting!” Harry screeched, “This isn’t _nothing_ —you’ve ruined my fucking fairytale wedding! It’s all wrong, the designs, the fucking props you have getting made. Everything!”

“Oh so now it’s _your_ wedding? Last time I checked this was Perrie and Jade’s wedding. Or is the world supposed to revolve around your self-absorbed ass and stupid fucking magazine covers?”

“God—you’re so _insufferable._ I can’t deal with this anymore. Not now.”

“Then why don’t you just fucking leave, yeah? Or how about this, I’ll make it even easier for you. I’ll leave. Call me when you decide to stop being a dick.”

Louis picked up his tablet, stormily grabbing as many things as he could and gathering them in his arms. He was frantic—papers and folders slipping out of his arms and tumbling to the ground. He didn’t fucking care. They could stay there. He just need to _get out._

He shouldered past Harry, letting the dorm slam close with a resounding click.

* * *

 

“So,” Leigh Anne Pinnock began as she slid two dainty plates across the table, “Here we have a vanilla sponge cake with a lavender and orange buttercream filling.”

Louis watched as Perrie and Jade picked up their forks, the prongs tinkling against China as they each picked a small morsel of fluffy white cake. He slumped back in his chair, the soft plush cushion warm underneath his thighs. They had been in the bakery for two hours now, the cake shop a stark bright medley of pastel, the powdery scent of flour and sugar, and elaborate displays of finely decorated cakes—sugar lilies and roses and French buttercream ivies creeping up tiered cakes on polished platters. Louis flattened his chin on his palm, mind blanking as he stared at the gold and cream damask wallpaper.

Perrie and Jade had asked them to meet them at _Leigh Anne’s Cakes_ to go over designing the wedding cake. The entire appointment had been awkward so far. It had only been a day after he and Harry had their falling out in the conference room and things were very _very_ tense between them. They hadn’t spoken at all, only directly addressing Perrie and Jade. As soon as they came in, they both sat on opposite ends of each other—Louis next to Jade and Harry next to Perrie.

“What do you think about that one babe?” Jade asked.

Perrie smoothed her hair back, her long blonde ponytail settling on her shoulder as she carefully placed her fork on her plate and folded her hands in her lap.

“It’s delicious, but it’s a little too…airy for what I was thinking. Maybe we should have something more rustic to fit the forest theme? I quite liked the one with the ganache center. Louis, Harry. What do you think?”

Louis tore his eyes away from the wall. He glanced across the table, briefly meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry quickly looked away, mouth in a downturned frown.

“Umm,” Louis began, twisting a baby blue napkin between his fingers, “I guess I liked the ganache one. I’m not a cake expert but I agree that we should go more rustic.”

“I disagree. I think the lavender one is much better. The airiness and delicacy really captures the forest—just think about it, how elegant and gentle Mother Nature can be. It doesn’t always have to be harsh or overpowering. Trust me, I learned that from _experience_.” Harry finished, his voice sharp as he bit out the last word.

Louis swallowed back a growl, there he went again, treating Louis like he was some kind of amateur. He knew Harry was disagreeing with him for the sake of it. Over fucking cake. Thankfully, Leigh Anne spoke up before he could say anything that could potentially get him fired.

“Why don’t we find a happy balance? I have a lovely dark fruit cake in the back with sultanas, walnuts, cherries and French brandy. Very rustic and not too sweet. We can play with a couple different fillings for a more airy feeling, maybe a light lemon curd cream or a black cherry buttercream.”

“That sounds lovely,” Perrie smiled, “I do love nuts and fruit in my cakes. My favorite is carrot cake.”

“Excellent,” Leigh Anne clapped her hands together as she stood up and straightened her duckling yellow apron, big brown eyes sparkling, “I’ll be back for more samples. Feel free to try anything else on the table or let me know if any of the displays catch your eye.”

“Want to look around?” Jade asked as soon as Leigh Anne disappeared into the kitchen, offering her arm to Perrie.

Perrie nodded, hooking her arm on Jade’s.

“You guys will be fine?”

 _No_ was the first thing that came to mind. Louis bit his lip. The last thing Harry and Louis would be was fine if they were left together alone. But he couldn’t say that. This wasn’t about him. It wasn’t his wedding and this was a job. He’d have to suck it up.

“Yeah,” Louis answered, plastering a fake smile on his face, “You two go on. Harry and I will just wait in the back.”

As soon as Perrie and Jade had retreated to the other end of the bakery, positioned in front of a soft rose colored three tiered cake, Harry grabbed Louis by the elbow and swiftly pulled him away. He said nothing as he walked, long legs making quick strides. Louis nearly tripped as he tried to keep up, his own shorter legs stumbling as they crossed the shop.

“Hey!” Louis hissed. He wiggled, shaking his shoulders as he tried to break free of Harry’s hold. Harry’s grip was tight though, fingers curled firmly around his bicep as he tugged him along to the back of the bakery, near the employee exit. It was dark there, the light fading into shadows as they stopped near a small strip of beaten down wall cramped in a tiny corner.

“What do you want?” Louis demanded, settling back on the wall, loose chunks of plaster scraping his shoulders. He rubbed his arm where Harry had wrapped his hand around him. They were past the kitchens and near the storage area. The sugary scent of the cakes baking was even stronger here, thickly permeating the air.

“We need to talk about what happened yesterday.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. You overreacted.”

“ _I_ overreacted? You were the one who stormed out of the room and called me a dick. Which, by the way is _real professional_ of you.”

“You deserved it. I told you it was a fucking mistake. How many times do I need to tell you? I didn’t mean to hold back the costume stuff on purpose!”

“God you know that’s not the only thing I’m mad about!” Harry slammed his hand against the wall, not even flinching as it left an angry red mark on his knuckles, “The set designer! You fucking went and hired someone without letting me know or even _asking_ if it was okay.”

“I didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal! It’s not like all the designs are final, I just made an initial outline. Why are you freaking out this much over nothing?”

“Of course you don’t understand—Jesus Christ are you always this dense?” Harry growled, scrubbing a hand down his face, “It’s all about principal. Hiring the set designer wasn’t what made pissed me off. It was the fact that you did it _without_ me. We’re supposed to be working together on this but, God sometimes I just want to…fuck, never mind.”

Harry shook his head, chest heaving as he looked away.

“Want to what?” Louis demanded, a new uncomfortable tenseness filling the air—it was different this time, something heavy about it. It reminded him of how the atmosphere felt in the conference room, when Harry had pushed him into the chair.

“Nothing,” Harry waved him off, eyebrows knit together.

Louis breathed in, his pupils blown as he kept his eyes glued on Harry’s profile in the dark. His entire body tingled, damp palms sliding against his thighs. He took a step forward, their toes centimeters away from touching.

“Tell me.”

Harry’s back tightened, muscles taught as he felt Louis’ presence, but he didn’t move away.

“I want to make you _obey_.”

Louis shivered. The air charged around them. He knew what was going to happen—it felt inevitable and he _wanted_ it.

He wound his fingers into Harry’s belt loops and tugged him closer so their hips were just barely touching, voice scratchy as he spoke, “Yeah, why don’t you then?”

At that, Harry’s head turned, boring his eyes into Louis’ for a split second before he grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him in, ducking his head down and smashing their lips together. Their teeth collided, lips parted as they licked into each other’s mouths. Louis groaned as Harry pushed him against the back door. He felt dizzy as they kept kissing, everything wet and hot and full of friction.

Louis bit down on Harry’s bottom lip before pulling away for air.

“Do you want to…?” Harry breathed, mouth shiny and pink with spit.

“Yeah,” Louis huffed, grabbing for Harry’s broad shoulders.

Harry groaned, glancing to the side where Jade and Perrie were still cake tasting, “Not here. Outside.”

“Fuck,” Louis cursed as Harry pushed through the back door. They hurried, limbs bumping, letting the heavy industrial door slam with a loud thump. Louis staggered, feet dragging against harsh gravel. As soon as he was outside he took a deep breath, his chest expanding as he gulped in a mouthful of dry California air.

It was cool and arid outside, the sun had set and night took its place, washing the sky with translucent darkness. Silhouettes of palm trees dotted the skyline, fluorescent pink and green neon lights from a casino sign casted an artificial glow.

“This way,” Harry grabbed Louis’ hand and pulled him into a narrow alleyway. As soon as they were far enough where they couldn’t be seen, Harry grasped his chin and tilted his head up, pressing his lips against his, one hand coming to slide into his back pocket to squeeze his ass. He moved the other hand to the nape of Louis’ neck, stroking the sensitive skin and baby hairs there.

Louis whined in Harry’s mouth, he was hard, erection straining against the front of his jeans. He had gone commando that day, and the metal of the zipper was cold against his cock, precome leaving behind an obscene wet spot on his trousers. He had wanted this for the past couple days so bad, wanted to be held down and fucked as hard as possible. But Harry was slow, taking his time as he stroked over the curve of Louis’ ass, slowing down the pace of their kisses.

“Come _on,_ ” Louis growled, pulling away as he pushed his hips into Harry’s, “You keep saying you’re not some forty year old woman, _prove it to me._ Do what you wanted to do to me. Make me obey.”

“You want me to?” Harry breathed, nostrils flaring as he ghosted his lips on Louis’ ear, teeth sliding against the shell slowly.

“Yes,” Louis demanded, “Stop being so fucking sweet, I want it _rough._ ”

As soon he said those words the atmosphere seemed to shift. Within a second Louis was being flipped around, his face pressed against brick. He exhaled, the brick scraping against his cheek. Harry crowded behind him, kicking at his legs until he spread them open, thick cock brushing against his ass.  Harry ran his open mouth over Louis’ neck and rucked his hands up the front of Louis’ shirt, large palms sliding up smooth skin, tracing the curve of his hips and his thin waist before skimming over his nipples. Then, at the same time, he bit down into his throat and grasped both of his nipples and clamped down.

“God,” Louis whined, high in his throat. He wanted him inside him so bad. He needed to be fucked, his jeans were soaked through. Trickles of precome ran down his trembling thighs.

“You like that doll? Is that rough enough for you?” Harry asked, teeth biting down even harder.  He twisted his nipple, a sharp pleasurable pain spiking through his body, “Like when I play with your tits hmm? Your nipples are so pretty and pink, all peaked up for me. You’re a slut for me. I can feel you, all wet and open for my cock. Dirty little thing. Begging to get fucked, yeah?”

Louis squeezed his eyes shut, hips jerking as he tried to grind down harder on Harry’s cock. He didn’t know how much he liked dirty talk, liked being someone’s _slut_ until now. With a shuddering breath he reached a hand down to press his erection, desperately trying to get some friction.

“Yes, yes,” He cried, “Need your cock. Please, please, please. Fuck me. Now.”

Harry growled, hand twisting into his hair as he yanked his head back and grabbed Louis’ wrist. Louis hissed in pain, back arched as Harry tightened his grip on his scalp, pulling his head back to meet his gaze. Harry’s eyes were dark, pupils widened and pitch black, “You don’t touch yourself and you don’t _ever_ tell me what to do. I’m in charge, you’re going to obey. And I’ll fuck you when I want to. Got that?”

“Yes,” Louis panted, voice high and needy.

“Good boy.” 


	2. author's note

Hello! Thank you for all the kudos and feedback on this fic. Unfortunately, I have decided to discontinue this fic, seeing as I no longer consider myself part of the 1D fandom. I still have a 20k unpublished and unfinished princess diaries au sitting in my draft that I'm contemplating publishing since I don't think i'll ever touch it again. If i don't publish that one, this will be my last update for 1d. Thank you to everyone that has left feedback or kudos on any of my work. You rock.

xxx, silkbombs.

Also I will not make this fic as incomplete fuck you. Larry isn’t real get over yourself.


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